Lights
by arianna99
Summary: The Serenity tells River things sometimes. This is one. It takes her a while to figure it out. Jayne/Mal, Slash, Post-BDM


**Title: **Lights  
**Fandom/Pairing: **Firefly, Mal/Jayne  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Disclaimer: **Joss Whedon owns all  
**Summary: **The Serenity tells River things, sometimes. This is one of them  
**Notes: **Semi-sentient Serenity, River POV, blatant abuse of bilingualism on my part, first attempt at Firefly fic, fairly random...

The Serenity was alive in some ways. Not like a truly living being, but in some ways she was. River knew from hearing Kaylee talk that she could be sick and healthy like a human, and happy and sad with the way they treated her.

But it was more than that- lots of mechanics made it sound as if their ships were living beings from the way they talked, but this was different. Serenity really thrummed with energy, and River could feel it when she placed a hand on her walls, just the same as she could hear the things that people weren't saying sometimes.

And they all thought of her as alive, all of them. Mal first and foremost, and Zoë did tend to follow his lead, but Wash, too, River could feel it from the way the ship sang when he piloted her through manoeuvres that should've been impossible. Kaylee was obvious, but Jayne, he could feel the fierce power she had, and that fascinated River a little bit.

Even Simon was a little awed by the ship, and instinctually followed her lead. And Simon was so rational, so…well, anal, so convinced everything could be explained. Oh, yes, her brother was easy to read, perhaps because she knew him so well.

But this was getting off track. The point was, they all knew the ship. What they didn't all know, River suspected, was how well the ship knew them. Because they were all such permanent fixtures on board, there were things she could sense. Under the thrumming power of Serenity's engines running, there was more, if you could take the time to find it. Kaylee's bunk, where she'd changed the settings some, fiddled with the lights and the walls, registered as a steady warm glow over the general pulse of the engines.

The running engines were a bit like a heartbeat, River figured, and Kaylee was the heart.

Wash and Zoë, now, their bunk was more like the steady burn of fluorescent lighting, less warm than Kaylee, like the brain, but Mal's was like a fire, flickering, sometimes high, sometimes low, he was the ship's breath, he was oxygen.

Jayne was just concentrated strength, like a flashlight, he was the arms and legs that kept it all functional, and Simon was a sort of calm light, not really part of the ship's body, as River thought of it, more like her healer, a doctor in every way imaginable.

River herself didn't have a special light. She was too connected with the ship, she figured. But if she had one, she liked to think she'd be its soul, its character.

The Shepherd and Inara didn't share the light, either. The Shepherd loved his God too much to love the ship quite as much as the others, and Inara…well, she just wasn't one to believe.

The ship told her things, sometimes. Her heart beat faster when Simon and Kaylee were together, the golden glow of Kaylee pounding wildly, and it warmed River's own heart to see it. Simon deserved some happiness.

Zoë and Wash's light bulb heated up and up and up when they had sex, till it exploded, and needed replacing.

And sometimes, more than one flame burnt in the Captain's bunk.

More often than not, lately, actually. River supposed it should be uncomfortable, being able to hear so clearly what was happening. But she couldn't help it- when she was younger, she'd been able to block things out, things she didn't want to know or see, but until the medicines Simon was giving her steadied, took a more regular effect, her control was too awry.

Anyway, it seemed everyone'd grown kind of used to her knowing things. And living as they did, practically on top of each other, it was hard not to know when two people were having sex even if you weren't psychic.

River, quite honestly, found Mal and Jayne fascinating.

River never quite shared Simon's antipathy against the merc, even after Ariel. It made perfect sense to her: He'd always said he couldn't be trusted, and here was a shock, he couldn't be. There was no lying about that, no untrustworthiness in his untrustworthiness. He was, as advertised, a ruthless killer.

Except that he wasn't, not really. Because under the surface of getting money, killing, guns…there was always an undertone of why. Why he needed the money- for his family, for his sick little brother. How he always carefully pushed killing and death to the very back of his mind, the very thing she couldn't do, that made her jealous, and how he loved his guns for their dependability.

He was straightforward, understandable, and yet he had a depth others lacked. Inara, for instance, despite her long years of training, was spoiled, unused to their way of life, wore her emotions on her sleeve for everyone with the least bit of empathy to see. Jayne had practice hiding himself, hiding whatever it was that had happened to him to give him that practice. And that made River more than a little curious. She'd always loved a good puzzle, and hadn't yet met one she couldn't crack. Some just required more patience than others- the trick wasn't finding a quick solution, the trick was waiting for the right moment, when it was ready to be solved.

And Jayne was getting readier and readier, she thought.

Mal made him happy. It was almost funny- Mal, their reckless, somewhat self-destructive, definitely suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress captain, made Jayne, the heartless, ruthless mercenary happy. And vice versa, if Mal's suddenly warm, glowy thoughts were anything to go by.

River giggled. She wondered what the others would say when they found out. She knew Simon didn't believe Jayne to be in possession of true human emotions. There was a dark side to her brother, a touch of paranoia and pride that River was always wary of. He just didn't quite understand things the way she did, he didn't have the whole picture. He took what bits and pieces he could see and made his decisions based on it.

She was different. But that was a given.

Anyway. She could feel the thrum of their lights mingled in the Captain's bunk, like a heat sensor, whenever she put her hand on the walls of the ship and let her mind wander. She could see the whole ship, the whole layout, if she chose, but the beacon that spoke of Mal and Jayne always drew her in more easily than any of the others. She didn't fully understand them, not the way she understood her brother intuitively, the way Kaylee invited her to understand…

She could feel them there, together, right now.

Interesting, she thought. Given that it was hardly five in the afternoon and all. They usually waited till everyone else was asleep.

"…just stormed off in a huff," Wash was saying, voice bewildered. Ah. That was why.

"You insulted him," she said, and perhaps it was a little mean to enjoy the way Wash started at the fact that she was not only in the room but knew what he'd said in a conversation she hadn't witnessed.

"Don't see why," he muttered. "'S nothing I don't say to him all the time."

"True," she said, more to herself than to him, "but it makes a difference now Mal knows."

That piqued Wash's interest. "Mal knows what?"

"That he's not."

"Not what?"

"Stupid."

Wash and Zoë had both decided to look at her by now. Nice of them, though she still made them nervous. "Well but…he is," Zoë said. "Not like we hold it against him, he's just not the brightest of fellows."

"No," she agreed. "But he's not who you make him out to be."

They were answering something, but she wasn't listening- there was more there, now, the things that had been hiding under Jayne's surface were coming out. He was telling Mal. She listened.

She must be speaking what she heard, because next thing she knew, her own voice was saying, "speaks three languages, English and Chinese and German from Earth that Was, his grandfather passed that on to him, he was just never good at reading because he's dyslexic. …if he'd stayed on long enough at school he could've been something, somewhere…"

"You're talking about Jayne," Wash's voice said, disbelievingly, over the hum of the engines, parallel to the sound of Jayne's voice breaking down in a sob and the phantom feel of Mal drawing him close and whispering words of comfort.

River pulled her hand back from the panelling abruptly. It wasn't right. She shouldn't know about Mattie and Ma, and about Uncle, taken by Reavers, and Pa, died of a wasting fever…she shouldn't know.

"No," she said. "I'm not."

"Well who then?" Zoë asked.

"Heard a carol," River answered, no longer looking at Zoë, but through her. "Mournful, holy. Chanted loudly, chanted lowly. Till her blood had frozen slowly and her eyes had darkened wholly." [1]

"Okay," Wash said, more than a little unsteadily. "I'm going to go now."

When they were gone, River allowed herself a smile. She'd learned that when she said something she hadn't meant to, it was easy to cover up with non sequitors, especially ones that involved the words 'blood' and 'dark'. Rhyming was a plus, too.

She decided this was a subject that required more waiting. She knew what the finished picture looked like and she had all the pieces, but they weren't ready to be put together and displayed as a solved puzzle.

----

Three months later

----

Mal and Jayne's thing was a bit like Zoë and Wash's. Like Zoë and Wash's had been, back when…back before Miranda.

Not like they'd been with the…marriage, and the talking about kids, but the way no one ever really understood them. Mal and Jayne were like that. Or, well, would've been, if anyone had known there was anything between them to not understand.

Truth was, Mal needed Jayne to be the way he was, needed him to constantly push and prod his decisions and his authority for him to actually feel like they were good decisions and well-earned authority. Jayne was his buffer for insecurity, and Jayne got that.

Behind closed doors (sometimes. Other times it was more like in closets or conveniently empty rooms and that one time in the cockpit) it was a different kettle of fish entirely. But that was no-one's business but theirs.

They'd been quiet about it even before Miranda, but now…well, there was just no sense in rubbing it in Zoë's face, was there? Simon and Kaylee were bad enough, all shy smiles and little touches, drawn to each other as if by some magnetic force.

Mal worried too much about Zoë to want to add to her pain. She was his second, and she was his responsibility. He'd let her down enough for one lifetime.

Of course, Jayne didn't exactly know that. He, unlike some other passengers, couldn't read minds. He was drawing back and making their relationship even less public because he thought that…well, Inara was back. He drew his own conclusions from there, and hid behind his weights and his guns and his grief for the Shepherd and Wash.

He let River train with him sometimes, these days. She was less crazy than before, and she'd certainly proved her abilities. He'd never admit it, but he found her presence restful more often than not. She could read when he was up for her crazy talk and when he wasn't and left him in peace accordingly. He also took for granted that she knew plenty more about him than he was telling her.

As for River, her puzzle was still unsolved, and Jayne's brain was restful in the turmoil of Zoë's grief and Simon's giddiness.

"Du hast ihn falsch verstanden[2]," She said to Jayne one morning when they were doing weight lifting. It was easier to get under his skin, she found, when no one else could understand.

"Who you talkin' 'bout?" He asked gruffly.

"Mal. Es ist nicht so wie du denkst.[3]"

He sighed, exasperated. „Halt deine Nase mal schön da raus, Mondhirn.[4]"

She didn't push him further on the subject. But she knew it was still there. So did he, come to think of it.

-

They were tingeing the atmosphere of the Serenity. She could feel it, and she didn't like it. Mal was worried about Zoë and upset that Jayne was drawing back, Jayne was worried about the Inara thing, and they were both grieving.

It wasn't right. The tension was drawn as tight as a bowstring, and River had never liked arrows.

They were arguing now, again, more than usual, and Serenity could feel the strain. She didn't like it when her people were upset.

The dinner table was drawn tight on tension and unhappiness, but for the bud of happiness always between Simon and Kaylee. Zoë was doing no more than picking at her food, quietly miserable. She would've been happier, River knew, if everyone else could be happy.

"Jayne," she said quietly, when his hand drew back from Mal's sharply when Mal passed him the platter of proteins and Mal's thoughts turned into a dark thundercloud of self-loathing and anger.

"What?" he growled.

"Es reicht jetzt[5]," she said firmly. „Rede mit ihm, sag' ihm was lost ist, schlag ihn, oder treibt's wie Häschen, ist mir egal, aber ihr müsst das lösen. Dem Schiff gefällt es nicht, und ihr macht uns alle unglücklich.6"

„Hab ich nicht gesagt, dass es dich nichts angeht?[7]" he said, blushing when he realized the others were watching them avidly.

"That German?" Mal asked.

"Yeah," Jayne said.

"Talk," River commanded, "Or I will Simon what happened to his-"

"Talking!" Mal said quickly. "Lots of talking."

"What happened to my what?" Simon asked suspiciously.

Jayne still wasn't meeting anyone's eye.

River growled. "Du wirst mit ihm reden. Du musst. Es ist mir egal ob es deine zierlichen Gefühle verletzt, Schätzchen, rede mit ihm oder ich mache dir das Leben zur Hölle.[8]"

He stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Ich kann das," she said. "Du weißt dass ich das kann.[9]"

Jayne sighed, stood up, indicated for Mal to follow him. Before he left, though, he turned back to River and said, "Vielleicht kannst du das, ja. Aber wenn das hier nicht gut geht, dann wird die Hölle neben dem was ich dir gebe schön aussehen.[10]"

„Dream on," she said airily.

"What did you say to him?" Simon asked suspiciously. "And since when does he speak German?"

"He's always spoken German," River said. "And I told him that he and Mal need to clear it up."

"Clear what up?" Zoë asked.

"Jayne is scared Mal wants Inara and Mal is scared he can't be a captain and a lover," River said, hand on the wall, listening to the JayneMal light that throbbed and pulsed in time to their argument.

No one said anything in response to that, but Kaylee was grinning, and Simon looked like he'd swallowed something very large, and Zoë was smiling, and Inara was blushing, and it wasn't half as bad as Mal always imagined.

"Gorramit, Jayne, if you think I'm gonna up and leave just 'cause Inara's back, why the hell are you even still here?" Mal was saying, the ship told River.

"Because I love you," Jayne growled back, and suddenly all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

"They're happy," River said. "Don't ruin it."

And everyone, even Simon, agreed.

----

[1] From the third-to-last verse of Alfred Tennyson's Lady of Shallott

[2] „You misunderstood him"

[3] „It's not like you think."

[4] „Keep your nose out of it, moonbrain."

[5] „It's enough"

[6] „Talk to him, tell him what's wrong, hit him or go at it like bunnies, I don't care, but you have to solve it. The ship doesn't like it and you're making us all unhappy."

[7] „Didn't I tell you it was none of your business?"

[8] „You will talk to him. You have to. I don't care if it hurts your delicate feelings, honey, talk to him or I'll make your life hell."

[9] „I can. You know I can."

[10] „Maybe you can, yeah. But if this doesn't go well, hell will look nice compared to what I'm going to do to you."


End file.
